


some things never change

by towokuwusatsuwu



Category: Kamen Rider Build
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Introspection, M/M, Memory Loss, Recovered Memories, Villains, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-30
Updated: 2018-01-30
Packaged: 2019-03-11 13:57:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13525722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towokuwusatsuwu/pseuds/towokuwusatsuwu
Summary: Gentoku had never loved anyone like he loved Katsuragi. Faust had been theirs, after all. That kind of passion is difficult to forget even with the aid of memory suppression.





	some things never change

Himuro Gentoku had never loved anyone before. Even as a teenage boy with hormones running high, his eyes had never strayed to another person with anything more than passing interest or a swell of lust. Certainly nothing more than that; the only person he cared about was himself, not even his father who had long since stopped treating him like his son until the space between them grew into such an expanse Gentoku hardly felt bad about staying out at all hours of the night just to run the man’s blood pressure up that much farther. There was always the risk he would be picked up by the authorities and spark a scandal in the process.

Gentoku would never allow such a thing, though. He had set his sights on taking political office one day and when his father became prime minister, he had decided to make it his mission to take the office from his father one way or another. If that meant staying within his good graces enough to become his aide, then so be it. After all, if he was under his father’s guarding eye more often, then there would be less of a chance of him getting into something that would stain their family name. He promised to clean up his act and he found himself at his father’s side; it was that unique situation and position that allowed him to meet Katsuragi Takumi.

He had been put in charge of hiring people that would benefit them and Katsuragi’s resume had been spotless and had revealed he had more than enough skills to take the position he was applying for. Still, Gentoku had run it over with a fine-toothed comb and called every single reference listed with a list of questions; he would be certain that anyone he was responsible for would be perfect in all areas, and nothing other than perfection would be acceptable.

Gentoku had liked him from the moment they first spoke to one another in the first introductory interview where Gentoku had a list of questions for him, determined to weed out those who would not be able to hack it. Touto Institute of Advanced Matter Physics was an elite group of scientists who had been brought together to unravel the mystery of Pandora’s Box, and only those who were right for the job would be allowed access to such a priceless treasure. It was specifically because Touto had such intelligence on their side that it was in their hands.

“Why do you think your skills are a fit for our institute?” Gentoku had asked him, gazing at him threw sharp and shrewd eyes. A single misstep in this interview would lose Katsuragi the job; he would make sure of that as he expected the very best of everyone who came before him.

“Because I’m the very best at what I do and my intelligence is unmatched in every field I’ve stepped into.” Katsuragi spoke in an even, measured tone but there was a wicked glint in his eyes that caught Gentoku’s interest immediately. “I’m not just interested in unraveling this mystery. I’m interested in finding out what it can do for the benefit of humanity.”

The answer had made the corner of Gentoku’s lips twitch, threatening to turn into a full-scale smirk even as he wrote the answer down in neat script. It was what he wanted to hear; an answer was useless if there was nothing they could do with it, after all.

Katsuragi had proven himself to be just as intelligent as his words and his credentials boasted, especially when Gentoku had assigned him the task of coming up with protection for Touto. As they closed in on the true answer of Pandora’s Box, there would be unrest; his eyes had strayed to Hokuto and Seito and he trusted neither of them even if his father dealt with their prime ministers on a regular basis. And Katsuragi had answered him with the Kamen Rider system, though he had been quite on how such a system would be powered in the long-run.

The answer had come with the Smash and the dosing of Nebula Gas. Gentoku would have kept the secret for him if he could have; it was that the information leaked and he had been forced to hand Katsuragi his walking papers and escort him off of the premises permanently.

“You know that I’m right, Gentoku!” Katsuragi’s fingers sank into his shoulders, almost shaking him, frantic and enraged, and Gentoku held up a hand to still the guards who moved in. They saw Katsuragi as a threat; Gentoku would have told him there was nothing the least bit frightening about Katsuragi. Not at this moment, anyway. “You know this is the right thing to do!”

Gentoku had shaken his head, resting a hand on top of Katsuragi’s, gently removing his fingers. “This is for the best, Takumi. You broke several laws here. Be happy the punishment is not worse.”

He had held Katsuragi’s hand in his own for sixty seconds, counting them off slowly in his head and watching Katsuragi’s expression. The moment he saw the knowing there, he released his hand, watching Katsuragi quickly curl his fingers to hide the slip of paper Gentoku had given him. To everyone watching, it must have looked like he was clenching his fist in fury.

Later that evening, Katsuragi had called Gentoku’s private cell phone number and, without an introduction, spoke: _“Tell me what you want to do. I’m open to whatever offer you make.”_

Gentoku toyed with the collar of his jacket, eyes fixed on a point on the wall of his office. “You were right. This is the only way to keep Touto safe. I’m willing to indulge you in this venture.”

Katsuragi exhaled slowly. _“I knew you believed in my work, Gentoku. But what do we do?”_

“I have money and influence and I have a plan,” Gentoku told him. “And I have an idea.”

Faust had been born on that evening, though no one would ever know this.

* * *

The facility had been built with Gentoku’s money, money he kept in private accounts that his father knew nothing about. The man had too much on his plate with running the country, with balancing relations with Hokuto and Seito, with Pandora’s Box; it was almost _too_ easy to build Faust beneath the earth. In the middle of preparations, Gentoku had met the infamous astronaut Isurugi Soichi, who had been the one to remove the panels from Pandora’s Box when he laid his hand upon it and who had run wild. Soichi brought him Misora, and that was good.

“Her power is useful,” Soichi had told him on their first meeting, and the darkness in his eyes had mirrored everything Gentoku sought in this venture. “We can use her. I promise you.”

Katsuragi had been beyond excited when Gentoku had toured him through Faust’s secret location; he had let Katsuragi pick the name and curled his lips at the mention of the man who had made a deal with the devil. After all, Katsuragi’s human experimentation had earned him quite a pretty nickname. Gentoku would have let him call Faust whatever he wanted to.

“We can do everything I’ve ever wanted to with this. We can perfect the Rider system. I’ve been having more ideas since then. I have so much to show you.” Katsuragi smiled at him in a way no one ever had before and Gentoku had felt genuine warmth for the man who lived on his experiments and ideas like they were food and water. “We can go above and beyond everything.”

Above all, Gentoku was a professional with connections, and the laboratory was set up without anyone being the wiser despite the people they employed to assist them in the process. Utsumi Nariaki, his own personal aide, had been brought aboard when Gentoku decided that he would be the kind to keep a secret that Gentoku entrusted him with. He would have done anything for Gentoku, and Gentoku would be remiss if he overlooked that fact for any reason.

He was a professional who knew he needed to keep his hands to himself, but it became all the more difficult with Katsuragi constantly around, with the two of them working so closely to one another. Katsuragi had ideals and ambitious goals that no one else would have been able to dream up on their own, and Gentoku had the will and the drive to see each of those goals to their completion. He had even allowed himself to undergo experimentation with the promise of power at the tips of his fingers that he had never seen before; Soichi had been the same, hungry for power in a way Gentoku had been unable to wrap his mind around.

If Gentoku had thought long and hard about his feelings and his reactions to Katsuragi in general, he might have been able to see it coming and limited himself. He might have been able to enact some self-control, something a little more difficult since his exposure to Pandora’s Box and everything it had changed in him. But Katsuragi made it easy for Gentoku to let himself think it would be okay to slip once or twice, or a few times. Anything would be okay.

* * *

The night has been a long one before Gentoku scrubs the sleep out of his eyes, stifling a yawn against the palm of his hand. “We should probably go. Or are you going to stay longer?”

Katsuragi looks up from his table, strewn with charts and diagrams. “Tired already, Gentoku?”

He had dropped the habit of calling him _Himuro-san_ when the two of them started working together in Faust, not that Gentoku minds all that much. “It’s well past two in the morning and we should probably call it a night if we want to get anything done tomorrow night.”

“I have duties in the morning and work here when I’m not working there. Pulling late nights isn’t always optimal for me.” Gentoku neatens up the stack of paper Katsuragi had fanned in front of him when he arrived, eager for his thoughts on the new designs he had come up with. “From what I can see, the Schlash Driver is very impressive.”

“It’s ambitious because of the nature of how it works. I’m not sure that I can find a way to soften the impact on the user.” Katsuragi props his chin on the palm of his hand, dragging his thumb over his lower lip. It’s a habit when he thinks, but Gentoku is never not distracted by it. “We might just have to deal with that as a side effect and not let someone use it for too long.”

Gentoku chuckles and drains the rest of his cup of coffee; not even this much caffeine can keep him going much longer. “If there is a way to do that, I’d trust you to be able to figure it out.”

“Thank you.” Normally distracted, Katsuragi’s voice sounds… Softer around the edges and when Gentoku looks up at him, he finds Katsuragi staring at him with a considering expression.

“What is it?” Gentoku blinks back at him, feeling the full weight of his fatigue on his shoulders. If he isn’t careful, he’ll doze off right here in the lab and Katsuragi will end up getting absorbed back into his work and not notice. “You’re staring at me. Something on my face?”

Katsuragi says nothing at first, teeth nipping at his bottom lip, another quirk Gentoku has noticed because the two of them work so closely together. These things are bound to become apparent to him, he thinks, because they spend so much time together. More time than Gentoku has ever allotted for someone else, and he tells himself it is for the good of Faust even though a strong part of him knows this is not particularly true. He has more reason than just that.

“No one acknowledges my work the way you have,” Katsuragi tells him, soft and thoughtful.

Gentoku rolls his shoulders to work the stiffness out of them and as a shrug; Katsuragi’s work is what the foundation of Faust has been built on. “You do excellent work and it would be wrong of him not to recognize how much hard work you put into Faust. We’ve made leaps and bounds within months because of _you._ Money can only go so far, after all.”

Katsuragi shakes his head, his eyes sparkling. “It’s more than that, I think.”

The words make Gentoku watch him more carefully, slipping out of his chair to round the desk between them. This feels more careful, more tentative, than anything else the two of them have done together which says a lot given how much work Faust takes to keep funded and covered up all at once. Katsuragi stays still but his eyes track Gentoku’s movements; he only turns in his seat when Gentoku comes to stand beside him with almost no space between them.

He had taken an almost savage pleasure in having to send Katsuragi away from Touto Institute even as he knew he was taking Katsuragi into Faust with him; the disappointment on his father’s face had given him a distinct joy he never had before. The government might benefit from Katsuragi’s work, but it’s only through Gentoku that this can happen; his father’s hand no longer extends far enough to touch Katsuragi. The Devil’s Scientist belongs to Faust, belongs to _him_ and Gentoku forces himself to take a deep breath, to calm down.

Katsuragi belongs to him. His work belongs to Faust. The two of them had built this organization together through the sheer determination to become the change Touto needed to grow stronger and to defend itself against the inevitable attacks from Hokuto and Seito. Maybe this is just a symptom of that, the paranoia creeping up Gentoku’s spine and making him nervous, making him feel like he needs to mark what belongs to him so no one else can touch it.

But even then, he knows that isn’t true. The two of them had been close when Katsuragi still worked for the Touto government; a few people had joked they were attached at the hip. Gentoku had finally found fascination with the work the Institute did and Katsuragi knew how to explain it to him in such a way that even complex things became easy to understand.

He stretches a hand out and down, fingers hesitating a mere breath away from Katsuragi’s skin, the tips of them picking up the slight warmth wafting off of his skin. His eyes remain concentrated firmly on Katsuragi’s own, willing him to say something, to either goad this on or stop it in its tracks because Gentoku is far beyond knowing whether or not this crosses a line or not. He knows it does, in the back of his mind; in the front of his mind, he has nearly given up caring. The very iron will that had kept him in check since Faust was born has wavered and defected to the same side of him that wants to throw everything into jeopardy if only for the experience of tasting Katsuragi’s lips beneath his own, to see if he tastes half as good as he looks when he has a particularly wicked idea in mind.

Katsuragi keeps eye contact as he leans into Gentoku’s touch, though there’s something wide and wild in his eyes, something that says he knows very well just how much he’s pushing the boundaries by doing this. His skin is warm against the palm of Gentoku’s hand, and really, it’s only natural that Gentoku decides he has to know what his lips feel like and taste like when Katsuragi has already given him this preview, isn’t it?

He already has height to his advantage when they’re standing but with Katsuragi still sitting, Gentoku has to lean down over him to close the distance between their lips. Katsuragi kisses like someone with next to no experience and something about that, the fact he isn’t good at this and obviously hasn’t done it enough to be good at it, makes Gentoku think _mine._

It’s easy to manhandle Katsuragi out of his chair, pressing him back into the edge of the table, the kiss quickly moving from gentle and warm to fierce and possessive, all teeth and tongue that Katsuragi returns eagerly. Gentoku feels fingers digging into his shoulders once again, the grip tighter than he would have expected; his hands sink into Katsuragi’s hips with the same level of force, no doubt leaving bruises behind even through his pants.

“What are we doing?” Katsuragi asks him when he has to break away to breathe, his lungs straining for oxygen, his breathing rough around the edges. Katsuragi licks his lips, and Gentoku groans softly at the sight. “Gentoku, what are we doing?”

Gentoku laughs and presses his forehead to Katsuragi’s. “Anything we want to do.”

* * *

Utsumi Nariaki has his reasons to be annoyed with Katsuragi Takumi. The two of them had once shared a career; Utsumi had been a scientist in his own right before Gentoku had hand-picked him out of his laboratory to play his assistant, citing he needed Utsumi’s experience on his side.

Maybe, at the time, he had seen that as a promotion; long grueling hours spent on Pandora’s Box had him disenchanted with the experience and longing for the privilege of returning to the work that interested him the most. Utsumi hadn’t _hated_ the research half as much as he missed tools and raw materials beneath his hands; he loved to use his knowledge to build anything that could be useful, but as Gentoku’s assistant he had little time for any of that.

It felt like less than a promotion over time, more like a cruel punishment doled out by fate because Utsumi knows Gentoku values his assistance too much to actively punish him like this. He values Utsumi enough to offer him a position in Faust, and though Utsumi had been uncertain about aligning himself with that amounts to an underground criminal organization, he knew it was something important to Gentoku and in the end had been brought around by the realization that helping Gentoku in Faust meant more to him than helping him with the government.

Anyone else would have called him an idiot for letting Gentoku’s desires override his own so strongly, but to Utsumi, it was the right choice at the time. He _wants_ to make Gentoku happy, after all; he had come to this realization the first time the two of them had been working on a large project together and he had found the breakthrough they needed to suceed.

The memory of Gentoku’s warm, thankful smile is imprinted on the backs of his eyelids.

Katsuragi, though… That had been difficult to swallow. Utsumi is far from stupid, and he picks up on social cues far better than most people would expect from him. He watches Gentoku and Katsuragi together, and he misses nothing, and he burns silently.

“Utsumi!” The impossibly cheery voice breaks him from his thoughts and he lifts his head from the computer screen to find Isurugi Soichi perched on the chair mere _inches_ away from him.

He jumps out of his chair, his heart hammering fiercely against his ribs, while Soichi only smiles up at him and cocks his head. “Don’t do that. Are you even supposed to be here? Gentoku gave you work to do yesterday and I highly doubt you’ve finished it by now.”

His annoyance with Katsuragi was on a purely personal level that is far from professional, which Utsumi regularly chides himself for when he has enough time to think about it. His distaste with Soichi is on a level even he himself does not understand, but the wicked and handsome former astronaut has the uncanny ability to either charm someone at a moment’s notice or get so deep beneath their skin they can’t forget his words for hours on end. Utsumi would know personally; he had thought the first time he met that he might like working with Soichi, but a few more meetings had reassure him that no one could ever actually enjoy the man.

“I’m only taking a short break so I can be at my best to finish my work. I promised Gentoku I’d take care of it, you know.” Soichi smiles, all white teeth, but something about his eyes makes it seem more like a predator baring their jaws instead of a simple grin. “You’ve been here for hours now, you know that? You should take a break. Even Takumi knows he needs a break from time to time. And if he doesn’t happen to remember, Gentoku always does.”

The mention of Katsuragi’s name beside Gentoku’s makes Utsumi curl his fingers into fists, the anger pooling in his gut like it always does. Soichi knows how to press his buttons, but he doesn’t help having such irrational reactions. “I assume you want something from me or else you wouldn’t have bothered me. Cut to the chase, Isurugi.”

Soichi pouts at him. “What if I only wanted some company while I took a moment to relax? You know the others are afraid of me because of the new toy Takumi gave me. Besides, it isn’t like I can relax with Takumi or Gentoku. When they’re together, no one else even matters.”

“You’re trying to bait me into getting angry, and I don’t appreciate it.” Utsumi wills himself to sit back down so he can get back to work. Faust has an endless list of goals to accomplish.

“Why would I want you to get angry with me? Then I couldn’t spend any more time with you.” Soichi sets an arm around his shoulders and Utsumi stiffens under the touch, then tells himself to relax because he knows how Soichi is. This is normal for him. “You used to be a scientist, too, didn’t you? But you haven’t gotten to do any of the work that Takumi has been doing.”

Utsumi presses his lips together and hates how correct Soichi is with that assessment. While he had seen Takumi’s plans and was confident he could be an asset in helping to develop the Rider Systems, he had been relegated to other tasks instead. Only Takumi could produce the Drivers.

“It’s too bad because I’m sure Gentoku would look at you the way you look at him if you had made anything he could use to further his goals,” Soichi muses, and he gives Utsumi’s shoulder a companionable squeeze as if it’s something they can both relate to.

The true pain is that Soichi is correct in his thought that Gentoku would pay more attention to Utsumi if he was more important to the team, but the fact of the matter is that he isn’t. He doesn’t know how to go about changing that. “I don’t care what Gentoku does.”

“That’s not true. You care about him. I can see it in your eyes when you look at him. I don’t think he noticed, all things considered, but Takumi just takes up so much of his time that you can’t really blame him for that.” Soichi’s voice is soft, almost pitying, and Utsumi grits his teeth as he tries to focus on the data in front of him and not the infuriating man beside him.

But Soichi doesn’t need anyone to listen to him in order for him to just soldier on in making everyone’s lives a living hell. “I’m sure Gentoku will have some free time one of these days, but you know, he was here the other night so lately with Takumi I thought I would drop in on them to make sure both of them were okay. They weren’t straining themselves with kisses, though.”

He disappears in a cloud of white smoke and Utsumi jumps out of his seat, covering his mouth with his sleeve to avoid inhaling the stuff. Then he punches the wall so hard he thinks he might have broken his hand, wishing it was Soichi’s face. Or maybe Katsuragi’s.

* * *

“Takumi! You’re busy at work as always.” The hands on the back of his chair hardly faze Katsuragi Takumi; he had been dealing with Isurugi Soichi long enough to learn his quirks. “You poor thing, Gentoku always works you to the bone, doesn’t he? Early mornings and long nights. But you don’t seem to mind the grueling schedule so much these days.”

The mention of Gentoku is almost enough to distract Katsuragi from his work, but he brushes them off and returns to the blueprint in front of him. An upgrade for the Transteam Gun, and wouldn’t Gentoku and Soichi be impressed with this? “Faust is our dream together, Soichi. I would be willing to work as hard as I have to in order for us to succeed.”

“That’s true, and your work is so important to Faust that we really wouldn’t know what to do without you.” Soichi hums down at him and Katsuragi smiles; the man might be all talk, but at least some of the talk is pleasant. “It must be nice, too. I mean, you’ve worked so hard to get where you are, but it’s not really gotten you anywhere. But Gentoku pays you so much one-on-one attention. I bet you’ve never felt so important, Ta-ku-mi.”

So that was what this was about. Katsuragi wets his suddenly dry lips, his pencil pausing on the paper in front of him as he looks over his shoulder at Soichi. Had he been so obvious in his affections for Gentoku? Trust be told, Katsuragi had been interested in Gentoku from the very beginning, but the work he did for Touto Institute of Advanced Matter Physics had been more stifling than anything else and the phone number Gentoku had given him reassured Katsuragi the two of them truly did have the same aim in the end. Gentoku had been so close to disappointing him, and then he had come through in a way Katsuragi had not expected.

“You like feeling important,” Soichi continues, smiling down at him, warm but not quite all there. “You should get to. Does Gentoku taste as good as he looks in that uniform?”

Maybe he had been obvious, or maybe Soichi knows how to read people in a way that Takumi will never be able to master. He doesn’t know, but he also doesn’t let it bother him. “You should find out for yourself if you’re so curious about him. How’s the transformation been lately? You usually walk around Faust in full leather so I assume you’ve gotten used to it enough, but if there’s any changes I need to make, you should let me know so I can get to work on that.”

“You’re so capable,” Soichi praises him. “Gentoku does right by taking care of you.”

He and Gentoku had done their best to keep their whatever this was quiet and in the dark when the rest of Faust had been sent off and the only ones to keep them company were the test subjects who weren’t going to see them anymore once they had been properly dosed. Katsuragi was a professional who did not want to mar his work with personal affairs, and he knows Gentoku feels the same. That hadn’t stopped them from stealing kisses late at night, but Katsuragi had been firm that he wanted to keep it toned down at work just the same.

Now, though, he just smiles and turns back to his work. “Gentoku is just a good boss, is all.”

Soichi laughs in his ear before his hands leave the back of the chair, his arms snaking around Katsuragi’s shoulders in a familiar attempt at an embrace before he disappears in a cloud of steam. So he had been making full use of the Transteam Gun and had no complaints about how it worked, which was great because Gentoku had no complaints either, and Night Rogue and Blood Stark were a success. That was good. What was better was that the Night Rogue suit had come out exactly like Katsuragi had planned; full black leather, the perfect accents making Night Rogue look both deadly and oddly erotic. He wonders if Gentoku had noticed.

“Looks like you just had a visitor,” a familiar voice deadpans, and Katsuragi doesn’t have to look up to recognize Utsumi Nariaki, the man Gentoku had brought in from Touto with the assurance he would be an asset for them. “I’m getting ready to go home for the night but I thought I would check in and make sure you have everything you need before I do.”

There was an interesting tone to Utsumi’s voice and Katsuragi glances up at him. He had paid the man no real mind because all he needed to do his job was Gentoku’s approval and assistance, and everything else he could do on his own. But something in Utsumi’s eyes makes him pause and consider for just a moment before he turns back to his work.

“Tell Gentoku I’m going to be working another late night,” he says at last.

Utsumi lingers for just a moment and Katsuragi can feel his eyes on the back of his neck, and the sensation is a strange one but he refuses to look up from his work. Only when Utsumi walks away from him and he hears his footsteps fade into nothing does he rub the back of his neck, ignoring the weird prickling beneath his skin. If Utsumi has a problem with him, so be it.

“Another late night?” The voice modulator makes his skin prickle with goosebumps in a different way and Katsuragi licks his lips as he raises his eyes once more.

So Utsumi had passed Gentoku his message; it had been less than half an hour since his departure and now Night Rogue stands on the either side of the table. “Just a few hours this time. I told you I wasn’t going to pass out on the table. You got too worried last night.”

Night Rogue’s suit is meant to be slightly sexy, or at least what Katsuragi finds attractive; sleek black leather and the intricate piping, the tiny pops of color and the mask that can glow. When he wants to, he can sprout wings and fly. The suit was one of Katsuragi’s favorite projects.

He stretches a hand out across the desk, tracing a finger over the bright bat insignia on Night Rogue’s chest before he grins up at him. “You worry about me too much. I was doing work this intensive before we ever met each other, and I made it all the way here, didn’t I? Trust me to know my own limits. Not that it isn’t nice to have someone looking out for me.”

Night Rogue walks around the table like a predator stalking his prey and Katsuragi returns to his work, a small surprised squeak leaving his lips when gloved hands wrap around his middle, resting low on his stomach. No one is here now but the test subjects; he feels the mask against the side of his neck and shivers, setting his pencil down. The design for the Nebula Steam Gun is more or less finished anyway, and it’s clear he isn’t getting any more work done tonight.

“Gentoku,” he says, and the sudden rush of steam around him coupled with the very human fingers pressing into his stomach tells him that Gentoku is back with him once again. “You know Soichi had some very interesting words about us to tell me before he left.”

Gentoku’s lips are warm on the back of his neck, his facial hair tickling Katsuragi’s skin as he presses small kisses there. “He’s probably noticed something, then. I don’t think I mind. He won’t compromise Faust too heavily, not when he benefits from it as well.”

That’s enough for Katsuragi, at least for now. He pushes his design away and twists around in his chair just as Gentoku leans forward; their lips meet smooth and seamless and Katsuragi moans softly into the kiss. It had only been kissing, and the occasional thought for more but never the execution. Maybe he’s been around Gentoku too often, or at least the Night Rogue suit too often, but Katsuragi wants more. Wants enough that he’s willing to reach for it tonight.

Gentoku’s hand moves lower on his stomach and Katsuragi bites down on his lower lip, a warning that has him leaning back with a perplexed expression on his face. “Not that I don’t enjoy flaunting this in front of our test subjects, but it’s a first for me.”

“A first.” Gentoku’s eyes darken and Katsuragi grins up at him. Only on Gentoku does that expression look good. “So not here, then. Your apartment? I can drive you back.”

Katsuragi nods up at him and Gentoku pulls him out of his chair, taking the initiative to steal another kiss before they leave Faust to the night guards and head back into the normal world. Not that anything feels normal right now, not when they’re about to do this, but Katsuragi is excited and even though he’s taken Gentoku up on his offer for rides before, he finds that sitting on the smooth leather seat is different now, that his stomach flips and twists nervously.

He never plans for company because who would come by, other than Gentoku or Soichi on the odd moment when he decided to drop in for a friendly chat? But the apartment is always clean, a habit more than something he does purposefully. Gentoku doesn’t even look; his hands are on Katsuragi as soon as the apartment door is closed, his lips leaving wet kisses down the side of Katsuragi’s neck.

“Gentoku,” he breathes, but that’s all he gets out before he gives in and tips his head back, giving Gentoku more skin to work with even as he grips the sleeves of his shirt, trying to pull him back toward his bedroom. Gentoku’s arms are a vice grip around his waist and he almost trips in the process, so he leans back out of Gentoku’s reach. “Bedroom. The door on the left.”

Though the apartment is dark, Gentoku navigates like he’s done it a thousand times before and Katsuragi hardly has time to kick his shoes off before Gentoku picks him up bodily and tosses him down on the bed, crawling on top of him a moment later. He’s heavier than expected and it’s from muscle; Katsuragi had seen him naked from the waist up enough times when they were first testing the Transteam Gun, after all. He knows just how well Gentoku takes care of himself.

Still, when Gentoku finally leans back to pull his shirt off, Katsuragi can’t stop the sound of admiration that leaves his throat or the way he runs his hands down Gentoku’s chest, feeling the muscle beneath his fingertips. He’s very lucky in more ways than one, it would seem.

Gentoku has experience and skill where Katsuragi has none, not that that changes how much he wants this or what he’s willing to do to get what he wants. He chokes around Gentoku’s cock the first time it’s in his mouth but he doesn’t give up there, just forces his throat to become acclimated with the stretch and the taste of Gentoku on his tongue, heavy and hot. The muscles in Gentoku’s thighs twitch and tremble beneath his hands and he thrives on that.

The moment Gentoku has him back on his back, though, he loses any advantage he had.

Work had kept him from experiencing anything to this degree but now he focuses on every touch and sensation and exactly what feels best as Gentoku’s hands and mouth trail down his skin, making him feel things he had only vaguely dreamed about but never went out of his way to experience. A first for him, in more ways than one. Katsuragi had never cared about anyone before because people meant very little to him and work was more important, using science to achieve everything he ever set his eyes on was more important. Not now, though. As if reading his thoughts, as if knowing they’re wandering, Gentoku presses slick skilled fingers inside of him.

The choked sound that leaves his throat at the stretch and burn has Gentoku on top of him, kissing the complaints off of his lips, soft reassurances against his skin. It feels less like pain and more like pleasure with every press and twist and Katsuragi groans, rakes his nails down Gentoku’s back and begs without words for more, until two becomes three, and then four even as his body shakes and his self-control teeters on the edge, ready to explode.

“Gentoku,” he chokes out, holding him tight as he rocks his hips down, needing more and not sure what _more_ means, not able to put words to it. “G-Gentoku, please—”

“Hush.” Gentoku kisses him to shut him up and Katsuragi bites down hard on his lower lip, tasting metallic on his tongue, and Gentoku responds with a sharp nip of his own. “I’ve got you. Trust me to know what I’m doing and let go.”

Gentoku fucks with force and determination and Katsuragi clings to him even as he feels like he’s crumbling around the edges. When he comes it’s with a strangled cry, Gentoku’s hand tight and slick around his cock. He feels Gentoku come inside of him, wet heat, and shudders at the sensation, trembles when Gentoku kisses him hard and wet with so much teeth.

Katsuragi Takumi might be in love.

* * *

Watching Gentoku crack around the edges is interesting to Isurugi Soichi; he had personally delivered the news to him this morning just to see what would happen to him when he learned the truth. Or, at least, the truth that Soichi wanted him to know. He had dropped the newspaper on his desk, watched Gentoku’s carefully blank expression crumple as the words sank in, watched him pick up the paper with trembling fingers before he shredded it into so many hundreds of little pieces with a shout unlike anything Soichi has ever heard out of him. He smiles up at the ceiling and thinks of the man asleep in his coffee shop, rocking on the balls of his feet. It feels good to be in control like this.

“What do you want to do about it?” he asks Gentoku, watching as Gentoku sweeps everything off of his desk, sending knick knacks and important papers and a photograph of him and his father crashing to the floor. “You know, you have access to him through your connections, do you not? I’m sure we can get our hands on Banjo Ryuga if you want to.”

Soichi has plans and ideas that he wants to fulfill, and to do this he has to pull strings of his own and keep certain abilities of his under wraps that not even Katsuragi had known about. Gentoku definitely does not know; Soichi has to keep certain cards up his sleeves at all times just to prove he still has the knowledge to do what he has to do. Besides, he had told Gentoku long ago that he laid plans and watched them come together. It’s as simple as that.

“I’ll kill him! I’ll rip him out of his cell and beat the life out of his eyes.” Gentoku rages around the room, storming from one side of it to the other, raking his fingers through his hair, and Soichi thinks that Gentoku must have never loved before. Must have never lost before. It’s oddly touching, in a way. “I’ll watching him bleed to death at my feet and beg for mercy. I’ll—”

Soichi catches him by the shoulders and Gentoku crumples instantly, and Soichi pulls him into his arms, rubbing soothing circles into his back. “I’m sorry,” he says, and he’s good enough at what he does to put just enough gentleness into his voice that Gentoku doesn’t rip away from him. “I have a better idea for Banjo Ryuga. Didn’t we need another test subject?”

Gentoku’s head is heavy on his shoulder and his voice is weak and quavering when he speaks, but he does nevertheless. He’s still here with Soichi. “Yes,” he says thickly, and Soichi smiles a little at the pitiful sound. “You’re right. We do. And he can be the subject. It’s what he deserves.”

“Good boy. Now, hold on.” Soichi picks up the objects strewn across the floor and sets them neatly on Gentoku’s desk, then combs his fingers through his hair, fixing it as best he can in the circumstances. At last, he brushes a stray tear from Gentoku’s cheek. “Be strong for Takumi, ne? Let’s get our hands on Banjo and take our vengeance that way.”

“Yes,” Gentoku agrees, and Soichi grins.

* * *

The fact of the matter is, Soichi had never planned on keeping the secret forever, and as Kiryu Sento proved himself proficient at assembling Katsuragi Takumi’s Rider Systems, Soichi knew the secret was bound to get out in one way or another. It seemed like a better idea to be honest from the beginning so that he could be in control of the information. Besides, Gentoku should be happy to find out Katsuragi had never truly died. It had torn him up long enough.

“He’s not dead,” Gentoku breathes and looks like he wants to cry at the news.

Soichi beams at him. “Not at all! Sato Taro is, though I highly doubt anyone is really missing him that much. Our dear Takumi is alive and well and always has been under my protection.”

“You let me think he was dead.” Gentoku stands up slowly from his desk, his voice strangely blank as he slowly closes the distance between himself and Soichi. “That was… How could you do such a thing? To him? To me? I thought we were supposed to be a team.”

“But you see, it was clearly the right thing to do. He’s taught us so much working as Build, and he’s been _happy_ to do that. You’ve seen him smile,” Soichi points out.

Gentoku looks uncertain at this and Soichi grins; nothing makes him happier than being right and he knows things about Katsuragi that Gentoku never had. The fact he had adapted so well to becoming Build just proves it must have been something he truly wanted, and Soichi was happy to give it to him. It was almost nice, the two of them sharing a space together, and Soichi had been tempted to take advantage of it too many times. Sento had a pretty face and he had been so weak to Soichi that it would have been simple.

A pity he had never taken him up on anything, though. The thought of infuriating Gentoku that much had been what stopped Soichi. In the end, he might need Faust. Making an enemy out of Gentoku over something like this was a bit too much for him to want to toy with.

Men in love are known to do dangerous and crazy things, after all.

Gentoku is suddenly on him, fingers fisting in the collar of his shirt and shaking him so hard it almost hurts. “How could you have done something like this? We _need_ him. We always have. How could you put him through this? You made me _fight_ him.”

“It raised his Hazard Level, so I don’t think it was for nothing,” Soichi argues, though the way fury flares in Gentoku’s eyes makes him think the excuse is not quite enough. “Will you calm down? He’s fine. He’s been happy. I saw him every day, and—”

“Takumi never would have chosen this! You bastard, you play with all of us like we’re just pawns. You don’t care about anyone but yourself.” Gentoku’s hands are shaking, his pupils dilated. Pandora’s Box had changed everyone; Soichi forgets that occasionally.

He sets his hands on top of Gentoku’s, lowers his voice. Maybe he can talk him down and out of his sudden rage. It’s hardly fair, after all. “Takumi has been fine this entire time, Gentoku. I spent time with him every day. He was happy. He likes helping people. Besides, he’s still the man we both once knew. He’s still so intelligent and curious. I just gave him a prettier face, and—”

He doesn’t see the punch coming. Gentoku decks him as hard as he can and Soichi goes down from the impact, surprised more than he is hurt. He touches the corner of his mouth and isn’t surprised when his fingers come away smeared with crimson. Gentoku is _pissed._

“I’ll pay you back for this,” Gentoku tells him. “For everything you did to him.”

Soichi smirks. He’s looking forward to that.

* * *

“We used to work together.” Sento sits perched on the edge of Gentoku’s desk, watching him intently type on his keyboard, his gaze focused with a laser-like precision Sento is not used to seeing out of him. Had he ever seen it before? His memories have not come back no matter what’s happened; even Nabeshima’s have returned, and Ryuga seemingly never lost his.

Is what Soichi did to him even more potent? It must be. The thought is troubling, but then, Sento was a monster in his former life. A demonic man who used science against innocent people. How could he ever want to return to such a life?

“We did.” Gentoku looks up at him, and his gaze softens around the edges. “For what it’s worth, you aren’t nearly as bad of a person as you must think you were.”

Sento swallows around the lump in his throat. “All of this is my fault.”

“No, it isn’t.” Gentoku closes his laptop a little harder than Sento expects, folding his hands on top of it. “You did not find Pandora’s Box up on Mars. You did not touch it and release the panels and the Sky Wall. You did not switch your face with an innocent man’s and then wipe your memories so you could turn yourself into a hero. Stark did all of this and I will not sit here and let you blame yourself. You had your part, but so did the rest of us.”

If it’s supposed to be comfort, it’s not very strong comfort. Sento swipes his tongue over his dry lips and sighs, bracing his hands on the edge of the desk and turning so his back is to Gentoku. He can’t look him in the eyes right now, can’t take in the gentleness at the edges of his vision and the warmth growing there. If he never remembers being Katsuragi Takumi, then he can never do anything about the way Gentoku looks at him. Katsuragi might not be truly dead, but Gentoku will still have to mourn him and move on from him at this rate.

“I still feel responsible. The Smash were my invention, after all,” Sento murmurs.

Gentoku sighs and the sound carries the weight of the world in it. “I will give you that one because it’s true. You did create them. But it was good, in a way. Build and Cross-Z take their power from the Smash, and you were the one who came up with that. You should take solace in that.”

“Forgive me if I don’t,” Sento mutters.

“No, I suppose you wouldn’t. Sometimes, you do or say something and it makes me think of him, but you’re different. Far different. It makes everything harder than it should have ever been.” Gentoku curses and Sento hears the sound of his chair moving, the sound of Gentoku putting distance between the two of them. “Damn Isurugi and his plotting.”

Sento smiles, though it hurts to do so. “He’s good at ruining lives, isn’t he? Exceptionally.”

“I don’t want to talk about him,” Gentoku snaps. “I don’t even want to _think_ about him.”

The two of them had once shared a past and a dream and though Sento remembers so little of anything before Nascita and Build, the shared venom they have for Isurugi Soichi has brought them together in a way. It’s bittersweet because even a tenuous connection is bound to hurt one or both of them in the end. After all, Sento can never be Katsuragi. Not ever again.

He looks over his shoulder, unsurprised to find Gentoku with a hand braced against the wall. “Hey—”

“You should go. I can’t even begin to predict what Hokuto is going to try next. I wouldn’t have expected anything they threw at us.” Gentoku doesn’t look at him. Maybe he can’t.

Sento wishes he knew what to say to make whatever is between them easier for both of them, and he doesn’t know why he cares. Gentoku had been as involved in Faust as Soichi, even more so because he and Katsuragi had built it together, supposedly, and as passionately as he speaks about it, Sento can easily believe he’s hardly given up the hope of continuing it.

He supposes he cares because _he_ cared: Katsuragi. Gentoku had loved him, and maybe Katsuragi loved him back. Gentoku gave that impression, or maybe Sento felt the echo of that love somewhere in the heart that had never really belonged to him anyway. Was it his fate to end up entangled with this man, even if on the opposite side? He doesn’t know.

For all of his intelligence and his talent and his knowledge, Sento is at a loss here. Nothing could have prepared him for a future like this one even if he had the sinking feeling in his gut from the beginning that Katsuragi might be the key to his lost memories. Not like this, not the way everything had turned out, but he knew Katsuragi had something to do with it all. That had not prepared him for this, though. Nothing could have. The tense set of Gentoku’s shoulders and the way his knuckles whiten against the wall and the heaviness in the room, how the physical distance between them seems so great and so small all at once.

Katsuragi had created Build to be a weapon, and Sento had found himself forced to fight in a war he never wanted to see his inventions become a part of. There had been pieces set to move on the board long ago and he had been one of the masterminds, and maybe he had been too smart, then, that he person he is today doesn’t see a clean way out of this. Maybe there was never meant to be a clean way out of it, though. Katsuragi might have liked it messy, difficult.

“Gentoku…” Sento trails off, running his hands through his hair, trying to make sense of the pang in his chest that doesn’t belong to him even though he knows it does. The urge to walk across the room, to do _something_ about this, about them. Anything, everything. “I… I don’t know what to say to make this right. I don’t know how to fix this. I just want to do—”

When Gentoku whirls on him, his face flushed and angry and his hands balled into fists, Sento bites down on his lip to stop himself. “There isn’t _anything_ you can do to fix this! You’ll never be him. Even if you have his memories— No, it’s better you don’t. There are things between us that don’t belong to you and I don’t want you to have access to them.”

Why does it hurt to hear him talk like that? “I’m not saying I could ever be, but. It’s not. You know, you don’t even _deserve_ to be happy for everything you’ve done to us!”

“You sound like my father.” Gentoku twists his head away, the cords in his neck standing out in sharp relief under the harsh office lights. “Get out, Kiryu. I’m done talking to you.”

“You don’t deserve to be happy.” Sento chokes on the words. “So why do I want you to be?”

Gentoku stalks across the room, grabs him by the front of his jacket. “Don’t you dare say that. You don’t have a right. If you’re trying to use him against me, I swear I’ll—”

He stops and Sento bites down harder on his lower lip, the backs of his eyes stinging and he isn’t sure if it’s the pressure of this situation coming down harder on his shoulders, or watching Gentoku fall apart in front of him— he doesn’t even know if these emotions belong to him. But he screws his eyes shut against the tears threatening to fall and Gentoku lets him go, and he thinks _no, don’t_ even though he could never voice it. Not after all of this.

“Don’t cry.” Gentoku’s hands light on his shoulders, slide down to squeeze his upper arms, gentle and reassuring and so warm that Sento leans into it even though he shouldn’t. “Please don’t cry. I… You should go. It’s been a long day for all of us.”

Sento chokes back a sob and shakes his head, raking his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to.”

Gentoku’s arms are around him tighter than he expects and Sento bows into his embrace, presses his face against the side of his neck and inhales sharply. His chest hurts and his heart aches and he knows why, he _knows_ that he loved the man who holds him so close and whispers soft reassurances in his ear, who runs gentle fingers through his hair, a touch that does more to soothe him than it has any right to. Sento _is_ Katsuragi; flesh, blood, and bone. He knows this.

“I’m sorry,” he says after a few minutes, wiping stray tears off of his cheeks. “I’m so sorry.”

Gentoku laughs and leans his head against Sento’s, and something about that feels familiar and right and good. “Not that things for he and me were ever easy, but this is far harder than any of that ever was. I can’t imagine it’s easy for you and I am sorry for that much.”

Not for much else, probably, but even if Sento is pissed about that on another level, he thinks he knows Gentoku well enough— now, and back then probably— to have expected this answer from him. As completely awful as it sounds, something about that reassurance comforts him, and he should lean back now, out of Gentoku’s arms. He doesn’t want to. That’s a problem.

Instead, he rests his chin on Gentoku’s shoulder. “This is familiar to me. It’s kind of nice.”

“I know what you mean,” Gentoku breathes against his ear. “I suppose… We’ve been lonely.”

Sento nods his assent; without his memories he had been lost and alone and afraid even though he had Soichi, and Misora, and later Ryuga. He loved them but nothing shook the way he felt and now, with some of his questions answered, he feels closer to a sense of peace.

“I’m not going to do what you want me to do just because it was what he would have wanted or done,” Sento says, and he means it. Build is allowed to mean just as much to him as it no doubt did to Katsuragi, and he doesn’t have any intention of letting anyone take it away from him.

Gentoku only chuckles. “I wouldn’t have expected you to. You’re stubborn. He was, too. In a way. Not like you. It’s not a wholly unattractive trait, all things considered. Just annoying.”

That note seems to be enough for them to lean away from each other and Sento wipes a final tear away, managing a smile, though he has no idea what he has to be happy about. Touto is under attack, he and Ryuga are being forced into falling in line as soldiers, and it’s only a matter of time until Seito gets impatient and gets involved. Grease and his men are dangerous enemies, and Sento is not wholly sure they can handle them, four on two.

“Whatever you decide to do,” Gentoku finally says, “don’t you die on me a second time.”

The knot in Sento’s throat is sudden and unwelcome and he blinks back a few stray tears, though one makes its way down his cheek just the same. Gentoku brushes it away with the pad of his thumb thoughtlessly and Sento wonders what would have made Katsuragi cry to him.

He should leave now, but he doesn’t. Instead, he leans forward this time, hands braced on Gentoku’s shoulders, his eyes closed before he quite makes it all the way. He should think of someone else, probably. Ryuga, that seems like a good choice, but he can’t quite manage that and feels Gentoku’s facial hair bristly against his skin when he finally kisses him.

And he’s done it a thousand times before it feels like and the way Gentoku’s arms slip around him, hands splayed across his back to pull him closer— it’s too familiar and just what Sento needs all at once, and it overwhelms him even as it soothes some ache deep inside of him that he had never examined closely enough. It’s not so easy to split the two of them apart.

Gentoku kisses him like he has something to prove and maybe he does, and Sento thinks he finds what he needs because he makes a small grateful noise before he deepens the kiss, all teeth and tongue and desperation wrapped so tightly it’s a miracle he hasn’t completely fallen apart at the seams yet. Sento moans into it, fingers digging into Gentoku’s shoulders. This feels good and right and more like him and what he needs than anything else in so, so long.

“You should definitely go before this escalates any farther,” Gentoku tells him matter-of-factly, speaking the words against Sento’s lips so he can taste the shape of them. “This isn’t going to end well for either of us, I don’t think. I’m not going to stop fighting you.”

Sento does manage to smile at that. “I wouldn’t expect you to. I… I can’t make you any promises but you know I’ll always be here to protect the people that I care about.”

“Of course.” Gentoku steps back, but not quite out of reach and it would be oh-so-easy to reel him in again and keep him as close as Sento wants him, that familiar warmth, the play of muscle beneath his hands that he could have charted with his eyes closed. This should be troubling. Maybe later, it will be. “You need to get some sleep. It’s getting late.”

“Probably. I suppose we’ll see more of each other later.” Sento slides off of his desk, and his knees are weak beneath him for more reasons than one.

Gentoku smiles at him, and for once, there’s nothing there _but_ that smile. It’s… Nice, on him, Sento thinks, even though he shouldn’t. “Of course. Goodbye, Sento.”

The walk back home puts things into perspective for Sento in ways that being in Gentoku’s office had made impossible. Katsuragi isn’t dead, had never died and certainly not on the floor of his apartment like everyone had once believed. Not his intelligence, and not the heart in his chest. For better or for worse, Sento is going to have to live with this and figure out where to go from here. He thinks he might be able to.

(Back in his office, Gentoku collapses into his chair and stares up at the ceiling, his heart thudding against his ribs. With his country in ruin and his control tenuous at best, he shouldn’t be able to smile like this.)

(Himuro Gentoku had only ever loved one person. Maybe, just maybe, things will work out his way, and he can change that number to two.)


End file.
